


The Snowed In Flat

by MangoTea



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Cozy, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22049545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoTea/pseuds/MangoTea
Summary: A snowstorm has turned bustling London into a quiet city. The boys are snowed in.
Relationships: Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster
Comments: 33
Kudos: 168





	The Snowed In Flat

There was a mild fuss somewhere nearby. Nothing in particular woke me at the painful hour of nine in the morning. The phone had rung a few times and was quickly silenced. There had been a few knocks at the door followed by quiet voices. Something in the air was off. Traffic sounded different. I pulled myself up from warm blankets and soft pillows. 

Jeeves entered a minute later, without tea. 

“Jeeves?” I said out of my muddle of confusion. 

“It is early yet, Sir. Today is a fine day for sleeping in.”

“Everything is alright?”

“Indeed, Sir.”

I fell right back on my pillows. When a chap like Jeeves tells you that all is right in the world and it’s a good day for recharging, one can’t help but feel a gentle peace wash over. 

Eventually, my body and mind were full up on sleep and wanted no more. I couldn’t help but notice so many sounds and smells were different. Presently, Jeeves appeared with my tea and breakfast.

“What sort of day it is Jeeves? It feels like a strange one. It doesn’t feel like the whole world is upside down, but like all the individual bits have shifted a touch.”

He opened a single curtain and blinding light poured in. “We’ve had a massive and unexpected blizzard, Sir. Part of the city is without power, and ours could go at any time.” 

“Is that why it’s so quiet? The snow is dampening the bustle of the city?”

“We are quite snowed in. The Drones Club was unable to open today and we've yet to see the postman.” 

“We are trapped? No way to make a supply run?”

“Quite trapped.” Jeeves said this calmly as if he were describing the fluffiness of the clouds outside. “Your bath is drawn and clothes prepared.” 

“If we can’t receive visitors what is the point of changing into a heather mix anyway?”

“There is no point to changing into a heather mix. A day like this calls for a grey suit not brown.” One moment his noble features were dramatically lit by the harsh sunlight pouring through the uncovered window, then he was gone.

I smiled into my tea. I bathed, groomed myself and obediently put on proper day wear for a gentleman, for his sake. I lounged on the couch and wondered what to do with my day. No club and no golf today. I sometimes spend the day at home, but this felt different somehow. I wandered the flat and found myself looking out over the metrop. The city looked a bit like a marzipan sculpture of itself. There were so many gentle curves where there should be sharp edges. The details of streets, cars and fencing were all gone. I said as much to Jeeves as he brought me a fresh cup of tea. 

“Indeed, Sir.” He also seemed taken with this strange yet familiar view. We stood there in the harsh light. He was right, this was a day for blues and greys. My brown suits would have been unsuitable. 

“It’s warm in here and smells like toasty … something. I am not sure, but it’s something.”

“Toasted bricks, Sir.”

“Bricks for lunch? Have things gotten so bad already?”

“Bricks to bank the heat. If we lose power, the heat turns off.”

“Oh right, like taking a brick or hot water bottle to bed in some aging estate. The ones where we visit and pretend it’s just like the glory days, not cold, damp and cramped.”

“That would not be for me to comment on.” 

“The sight of people in expensive clothes on antique chairs in bad need of repadding while drafts pour in, the walls having fewer and fewer historical and ancestral faces looking down on us each year, then bunging off to small beds with water bottles isn’t a bit something or other?”

Jeeves looked at me steadily. I knew thoughts were whirring away behind his placid expression. I wished he could share them with me. 

“No?” I said. “Alright. I prefer the metrop. Elevators, modern plumbing, new furniture, steady light to read by and reliable heat.” 

“We may be missing some of those things by tonight. If you have plans to read, now might be the time.”

The day passed peaceably enough. That no Aunt, lovesick Drone or school chum in need of the ready could rap at the door was a calming thought. I lounged perhaps a bit too loungily. Jeeves gave me a rum look a time or two, but made no comment. For once I could relax in my living room and not feel like a mannequin in a shop display, always done up and ready to meet whoever dropped by without announcing themselves first. I was only dressed at all for Jeeves’ benefit. That was a warming thought. 

I settled in to read, but suddenly felt a longing for my old journal. I rummaged in my desk until I found it. I used to write about my life quite a bit, but I’d gotten out of the habit. I felt too self conscious to write when an Aunt might burst in at any moment and demand to see what I was scribbling. Words used to flow so easily to page, but I kept finding myself stopping and starting. I never struggled much with expressing myself when talking, except for maybe stumbling over a word or two. Somehow, this was difficult, but once started I wanted to keep going. I couldn't help but try to capture some of the scrapes that Jeeves had gotten me out of and how his very presence brought a richness to my life that I never wanted to be without.

My journaling was cut short by the lights going off like, well, like a light. In my cozy nook filled with electric light, I hadn’t realized that the harsh daylight had given way to a grey gloom. Candles flared to life as Jeeves passed them. Presently, a cup of something warm and spicy smelling appeared on my table. It was far from my usual afternoon W. and S., but I knew better than to question Jeevesian concoctions without trying them first. I didn’t realize how tense my writing hand had become until the warmth of the cup sunk into muscles and joints. The drink seemed to be tea, a blend of spices, whiskey and a hint of smoke. I’d never been inside a ski lodge, but I imagined this is what one smelled like. I took a meditative sip. Not my usual drink, but perfectly suited to the circs. More than suited, the flavors accented the strange day and suddenly I saw beauty in the strange light. I sunk into an armchair and soaked in the outer gloom and inner coziness of my flat. 

When Jeeves woke me for dinner, the air smelled of warm honey from the melted beeswax of candles. The flat was still warm and dinner proved to be cooked fish and a portion of scalloped potatoes. The food was warm and didn’t seem different from any other day.

“If that will be all, Sir?”

“Jeeves, I suspect you’ve got a number of projects going in the kitchen to keeping things going in the storm?”

“The kitchen is not perfectly tidy, but it is as it needs to be for now.”

“What I meant was, eat out here with me. No good reason for you to sit with baked bricks or whatever else you’ve got going on. Take a break from all that.” 

Jeeves was still for a moment and then said “Very good, Sir.”

A moment later we were both eating fish by candlelight at the dining room table. Not a totally strange arrangement, we eat together while traveling sometimes, depending on the method. On trains we are rarely more than inches apart, but on boats I see very little of him. What I mean to say, is that dinner had the easily companionable feel rather than being strange. I wished every night could be like this.

I paused between bites to look at him. Jeeves is a stoic puzzle to most people, but I know my Jeeves.

“Jeeves,” I accused, “you are enjoying yourself.”

“Sir?” He feigned confusion. 

“I don’t know all the things you are up to dealing with the storm, but you are enjoying it.”

Jeeves took a bite before answering. “When one is in service, each position has some task that is important above all others. A cook needs to have the variety of skills to make a proper meal out of whatever is at market or whatever hunters bring back, or don’t bring back. Butlering is a bit like chess, one must constantly consider all the various pieces. A valet must be prepared for anything. Whether it’s weather, a sudden fleeing to The States or unexpected company. It’s why I prefer valeting over butlering.”

“This storm has given you a chance to play to your strengths, is what you are saying?” I felt like the warm honey in the air was sinking into my bones. A dinner together and a chance to hear about his day. I could get used to being snowed in.

He nodded. I spied a ghost of a smile. “There has been a backdoor market in flour and sugar going on all day. Several other valets in the building now owe me favors.”

“Really? Was that all the murmuring this morning?”

“Yes. I expect the day’s deals to yield good things in the future.”

“Jeeves, just tell me we aren’t trading in tea. I’d hate for us to run out, even for gold.”

“We shall not run out of tea. I have some put aside for trading, but no one has been desperate enough to meet my pricing, yet.”

I laughed. “You are in your element, Dear Thing. I’m sorry I’ve been boring recently.”

Seeing Jeeves eating fish in soft light, so obviously pleased with himself, warmed me more than I could say. I often wished this was our life. I often wished and then stopped further thought dead. I could not let my mind stray in that direction. If I did, I’d lose the friendship of the person who I knew and loved best out of all the world. He was also the man who knew me best. I wouldn’t presume much regard on his part, but I knew he had some. If he didn’t care for me at least a little then dealing with me and my friends would wear at him and he’d simply leave. He stayed with me because it suited him. That was it, the sum total of the only truly important relationship of my adult life. 

It was so subtle, a quirk of his mouth as small as a speck of dust, how he lifted his fork just so, but to me his good mood glowed through clearly. My man was just so content. My eyes lingered on his features for too long. When he took notice and returned my gaze I could have played it off, but I looked down too fast. My guilt was obvious. I took a slow breath to squelch my embarrassment. 

I forced myself to keep eating. It was unfair of me to wait to see how Jeeves responded, but I felt boxed in. Everything I could thing to say or do felt wrong. 

“Sir.” Jeeves demanded my attention. 

I looked back up at him. “Sorry, I got caught up in my own thoughts for a moment. Must’ve been all that writing earlier, my aunts always told me it was unhealthy.” 

Jeeves held my eyes. The candles flickered. I wanted to squirm. He didn't seem upset, but I wasn't used to his eyes being so focused on me. His usual downcast deference was gone. I didn't miss it, I liked being the center of his attention despite the reason. 

“I don’t agree. I think writing can be good, a form of self reflection. I’d never seen you write before, Sir.”

I was not off the hook. I was being examined. 

“I used to all through school. In my final year I showed some to my teachers. I was told it was frivolous and unsuited to a gentleman. I’ve done some here and there, but it’s pointless. Effort that never leads to anything. Today no one was going to burst in and ask me to account for myself so I … I … just being snowed in it felt like the thing to do, I mean.” I managed to speak calmly, but in truth I was admitting something that still hurt sorely.

“So there are things you only do when the outside world is held at bay?”

“No, it’s not that.” I gripped my fork too tightly and it slipped from my hand. It clanged loudly on the china. I winced at the sound. 

“Everything is alright.” Jeeves has this ability to be calming. His voice drops into a deep, soothing tone. I’ve seen it work on enraged strangers. On me, it works like a charm. “I am just trying to figure something out, Sir.”

I like that he can turn me to putty, so I become more easily moldable. I felt a blush creep along my cheeks. I couldn’t help it. Being scrutinized and soothed by him effected me. I felt my stomach tighten. I could feel the air too keenly. My body felt strangely alert, like it anticipated something. He continued to hold my gaze, so I made the best of it. I looked deeper into his dark brown eyes than I had ever allowed myself to do before. I felt so connected to him in that moment, in his gaze. My cheeks felt warm from all the candles on the table.

“Are you in love with me?” His voice was gentle, but words stunning. 

I jumped in my seat and snapped my eyes downward again. I swallowed painfully. I knew there was no use lying and I didn't want to insult him by trying. I've been in the soup enough time to know when trying to wriggle out will just land me in all the deeper. 

“I have been for ages. I’m sorry I let it rise to the surface, but I wish you hadn’t pointed it out.” The strange but warm sensations I felt were drenched by a cold dread. 

I felt his hand on mine. I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t know why he touched me, but I wanted to shut out the rest of the world and only feel that. I took a deep breath to brace myself and faced him again. His expression was open and curious. I felt like a strange bird that had crossed his path. 

"Tell me more," he said. 

“I’ve done my best to keep a tight lid on my feelings because I wanted to keep you as close to me as I could manage. Perhaps that was wrong of me. I couldn’t approach you and I couldn’t bear to send you off.”

“As an employer you wouldn’t approach your own valet.” 

I nodded stiffly. “I never intended to, but I seem to have slipped up.” 

“No, a few momentary looks are no failing. I am the one who is being forward.” 

“Why?” I realized that he had dropped the 'Sirs'. Forward indeed. 

“Because I adore you.” 

I could see it on this face. The look he was giving me was even clearer than his words, at least to me. I moved my hand under his and intertwined our fingers. I did so without thinking, if I had thought about it, I might have panicked.

“I adore you,” I said in return. “What do we do now?”

Then, he smiled. A broad grin across his face. I’d been learning the man for years based off of slight stiffening or softening of facial muscles for years. Such an open expression was beyond my imagining. I did not swoon, not quite. Had this bally table not been between us I would have just fallen into his arms, and stayed there. 

“From seeing all the entanglements of your friends, I always thought the next step was finding a nice bench or couch to sit on together.” 

I felt my heart pounding. I wanted to make some clever remark about the pitfalls of using my friends as a guide for anything. All I could manage was "Please."

I didn't want to let go of his hand as we rose, but the candles on the tables were in the way. I had to let go and follow him to the living room. He sat boldly on my guest couch and I dropped down next to him. He was only a few inches taller than me, but that difference always seemed to grow when we sat down. I wondered if the muscularity of his thighs made him sit higher on chairs. I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself.

"Are you alright, Sir?" He said. 

"I am so used to thinking of the barriers between us as immovable objects, that to even push at them would be an offense to the person I most want to be careful of."

"Being in a new situation is dizzying, Sir?" His voice still held that soothing tone and I felt a bit more like the ground under me was solid. 

"The 'Sirs' are back," I said.

"I am very used to saying them, and you to hearing them," he said. After a moment he added, "Sir."

I leaned into him slightly. It was not so unusual for young paramours to teasingly call each other by their titles like 'Lord' or Lady'. This seemed similar to me, lighthearted and perhaps a bit teasing. 

"Why the sudden forwardness today?" I leaned into him a bit more to make clear that I appreciated his boldness. He reached out and took one of my hands. 

"You should have seen the looks you were giving me,” he said.

"Was I even more obvious than I feared?"

"I think so."

Usually, I always felt I knew where I stood with Jeeves. Now I felt lost. I didn't know if he'd had lovers before. I didn't know if he struggled with own desires. I just knew that I wanted to keep him close. My hand tightened on his shoulder. He moved his arm to pull me close. I didn't want to think about anything, I just wanted to melt into his warmth. 

"Did you know how I felt, before today I mean?" I said.

"Yes. You were holding back. I wasn't sure why. My own feelings clouded my thinking. I knew what I wanted to be be true, but I couldn't trust it." 

He slowly stroked my cheek and I felt my arousal flare. It had been warming steadily, but now the heat was intense. My mouth opened slightly and my cheeks flushed. I must have looked an absolute mess with my desire written so blatantly on my face. 

He cupped my cheek and I turned my face into it. I needed the contact. His skin felt so good. 

He chuckled softly. “Your reaction is lovely, but you are making it hard for me to kiss you.” His voice was soft in my ear. 

I turned my face back toward him. The small movement felt so forward somehow. Then soft lips were on mine and the world seemed to dissolve. I felt utterly surrendered to him. One arm held me close, one hand cupped my head and guided it so he could kiss my neck, his lips found spots that I never dreamed could feel so good. He moved slowly, exploring me with his mouth. I was still properly dressed for dinner and yet he gave me such pleasure. I couldn't imagine how intense being against his skin would feel. I was almost afraid; could I handle something so consuming?

“Tell me this wont end when the snow melts?” I said.

“This wont end, but we will have to be very careful. I don't know how often we can be so daring in your sitting room.”

I wanted to ask him more, ask what our life could be like or tease him about this being a ploy for a trip to Cuba or some other far flung land where we wouldn't be caught tangled up in each other. Organizing my thoughts into to words was the last thing I wanted to do. I let go of reason and sunk into his arms. If I could not trust myself to Jeeves, I would be lost anyway. 

The rest of the evening I felt like we were out at sea. Passion ebbed and flowed between us. He'd kiss me until we were both breathless and panting, then we'd hold each other as we calmed down. At some point I wound up in his lap and had the curious feeling of being taller than him. I liked how closely our chests could lay with me on his legs. I could feel his breathing and his heartbeat. I tightened my arms, determined to stay so close to him. He held me tight in kind. Not a single thought drifted in the old lemon, I just drank in the feel of his solid frame, his large hands on my back, moving gently with each breathe he took and the smell of his skin and hair. I don't know if it was a moment or an eternity that I lay in perfect bliss until I finally dozed off. I heard him chuckle as I feel asleep sprawled across him. 

The next morning I awoke alone in bed and then took a deep breath of tea scented air. Jeeves stood next to my bed as he does every morning, neat and proper. I feared that yesterday had been a dream.

“Jeeves!” I sat up in sudden panic, though now more than ever was the time to play things cool. A teacup was pressed into my hand, not discreetly and professionally, but warmly and with an unseemly amount of skin contact between our hands. 

“The snow is melted, and once gone it's gone forever,” Jeeves said. 

I puzzled over his words for a minute. Metaphors are strictly for after my morning tea, but the warmth in his voice and the feel of his fingers against mine told me what I needed to know. 

I reached for him with my other hand, pulled him close and kissed him. His lips pressed against mine. I'd woken up to a new and wonderful world.


End file.
